


Won’t Be Perfect, But We’ll Be Fine

by WorkingChemistry



Series: DCU Omega AU [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Tim Drake, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, I had a bad day so I gave Jason a bad day, I like ABO but I’m not so into sex sooo..., I’m awful at tagging, Jason refuses to call his brother Tim, Let Jason have his family, Light Angst, Light Hurt/Comfort, No Sex, Omega Jason Todd, Probably ooc, References Jason’s death as you do, Self-Indulgent, Smoking, They’re brothers, bare minimum of plot, jason returning to the family, kind of a sick fic, mentions of disassociation, mostly comfort, this is gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorkingChemistry/pseuds/WorkingChemistry
Summary: Tim might be sick but he has things to do and work to oversee. He can’t afford to take a day off no matter what Bruce might think. Not only does he have his cases, WE paperwork to take care, the Titans to oversee, now he’s poking around into the legal tangles of bringing a person previously thought dead back to life.Even if said person doesn’t exactly want to be legally alive again.But when Jason demands his time, Tim discovers that maybe taking the occasional break isn’t that bad.





	Won’t Be Perfect, But We’ll Be Fine

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I had at the beginning of the month, but never got around to writing much of because You’re Alone ‘Til You’re Not Alone is my main focus and then I’m doing some heavy plotting to iron out the wrinkles of the sequel. I dusted this off after a particularly nasty shift because I felt like some comfort. Originally I planned for a little more Jason and Tim antagonism as a way to feel out the characters before I introduce Tim in the next fic, but I wasn’t feeling that while and I think I’m just gonna skip most of Jason v Tim anyway. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it

Who knew that bringing the dead back to life could be so complicated? 

Tim bites down on his thumb as he closes the court documents he’d been reading and opens up another window to search for the legal precedents of that case. It gets him another thirty cases to look over, and none of them appear remotely close to Jason’s. Not that it matters since the omega insists that he’s happier dead. 

“Look out if you don’t want smushed.”

Tim doesn’t have time to do more than look up and jerk his laptop to the side, an instinctual reaction brought about by prolonged exposure to his adopted family, before two hundred plus pounds of omega drop into his lap. He blinks down at his new couchmate for a few minutes and briefly reviews the potential side effects of the common cold interacting with coffee brewed in energy drinks to see if they include lifelike hallucinations.

They don’t, he doesn’t think. So that means... “Jason?”

“Hey, babybird.” Jason shifts, sprawling out to blanket more of Tim’s body. If the couch were any smaller, or if it were firmer Tim would probably be smushed beyond repair. As it is, even with the extra give, he feels crushed.

He gasps in a breath. This would be easier if his nose wasn’t so stuffed. “What are you doing?”

“Gettin’ comfy.” Jason’s head drops down to his chest with a heavy sigh. “You’re too bony.”

“Perhaps I can interest you in the currently unoccupied couch conveniently place half a foot over there that you  _passed_  to get to this one?” Tim flops a hand in the direction of the said furniture.

For some reason, his older brother seems to find that funny. Jason’s warm breath puffs across his collarbones. “You would just go back to work.”

“An excellent reason for you to get off. My work needs done.” Tim bites back a pained groan as Jason shifts again, elbowing him in the stomach none too gently. It’s so beyond tempting to just throw Jason off, and he could probably do it if he really had to despite Jason weighing nearly twice what he does, but Jason rarely initiates any interaction with the family.

He actively interacts with Tim even less.

“You got grounded, Timmy, and sent home by Daddy Bats. That means no working.” Jason’s finger pokes Tim in the side and he can’t help but squirm. “You’re sick. You do realize what ‘compromised immune system’ means?”

“I have absolutely no clue, why don’t you come squash me into the couch while you lecture me on it?” He deadpans.

Jason shoots him a grin, but it feels off. Tim wracks his brain trying to think of anything that might have triggered his older brother and comes up short. Honestly between being beaten with a crowbar, blown up alongside his birth mother, suffocating to death, clawing his way out of a grave, being submerged in a soul sucking pit, and being brainwashed by his on and off stepmother to go after his father, Jason has a lot of triggers. It could be literally anything.

Tim’s almost touched that Jason came to him, but he’d be more so if he could properly breathe.

“Funny you should mention that, Timbo.” Jason’s head flops back onto his chest, nose not so coincidentally landing near the scent gland above his collarbone. The omega’s curls tickle Tim’s nose and it takes everything him not to sneeze infected green snot into them. Jason continues on oblivious. “I gotta ten minute PowerPoint Dickie lent me that probably gets the point across real well.”

“If you’re going to make yourself comfortable, wrap us up in that throw blanket on the back of the couch. I’m freezing.” Despite his fever Tim is not, in fact, freezing. Especially not when he is pinned underneath his rather massive big brother, but he’s noticed that Jason is often colder than he should be. The Lazarus pit had done wonders, but there was a limit to its miracles. Brain trauma and nerve damage are tricky things to heal. A more mild side effect of all that nerve damage is that Jason always feels cold.

One of the first things Bruce had done now that Jason was properly returned to the family, albeit without being brought back to life legally since the omega was crazy stubborn and still freaking refused to let that happen, was order imaging of his brain. The results had been.... well it explained a lot.

With a blanket wrapped around them, and the omega didn’t bicker over that nearly as much as he should, Jason seems to finally relax. He absently rubs his cheek against Tim’s collarbone. “You don’t much smell like pack, Tim-tac. When was the last time you let Bruce scent you?”

“Um...” Bruce scented people? “Probably never. Maybe after I nearly died at some point?”

Whatever he expected Jason’s response to be, it wasn’t an almost alpha low growl. “What’re you saying, Timberland?”

“Bruce doesn’t scent anyone, Jason.” Tim squints down at the curly head with a little worry. “When was the last time he scented you?”

Immediately he regrets the question. Jason flinches and hunches in on himself. He doesn’t have to answer, in fact he doesn’t, his reaction makes it clear that it was probably before his death. Tim swears at himself under his breath and reaches one hand up to comb through Jason’s hair. The other rubs circles across the omega’s back. No doubt Jason’s been running around thinking Bruce, and maybe even the rest of them, have been rejecting him as a full member of the pack because they won’t scent him.

And of course his big brother won’t say anything about wanting to wear their scents for fear that they really will reject him. Because that’s just who Jason is. He’d rather live in uncertainty than to have someone know he cares and reject him anyway.

Even as an alpha, growing up used to not smelling like his parents, sometimes Tim finds not smelling like pack hard. Jason’s omegan instincts must be running haywire without a pack scent to promise he belongs. The idiot should have said something; _they_ should have noticed. After all the family is basically a large group of alphas and a few betas with just two omegas to care for. It shouldn’t be that difficult for them to notice when one is hurting.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Tim bends his head to bump it against Jason’s. When the omega turns his face towards Tim to respond, the alpha leans up awkwardly in return and swipes his cheek across Jason’s. For a moment Jason freezes and then shuffles so Tim can scent him easier. Honestly, as sick as Tim feels, this is a little gross but he can already feel the omega start to relax. If smelling like Sick Timtm makes Jason feel better then so be it.

Once Jason is nearly purring, Tim lets his head drop back to the couch arm with a chuckle. Dick will be mad to have missed family bonding. “Was that all that was bothering you?”

Jason shakes his head, letting it rest back on Tim’s chest and pulls the blanket tighter. Still, he’s not as tense as before. Having learned from experience, Tim stays silent and lets him sort out what he wants to say. As impulsive as Jason seems, the omega rarely does or says anything without thinking about it. Realizing that Jason was reckless and passionate in his response to things, but not necessarily spontaneous, had  been something of a breakthrough.

Pushing for an answer before Jason is ready to give it is guaranteed to make him run. Sometimes, when he’s particularly upset, Jason even goes nonverbal to the point of almost being catatonic. It’s something Tim’s only seen happen a few times, but it was terrifying to watch. Even more terrifying was that when Jason came out of it, and he learned he’d been out for nearly a day, he made a comment about it not lasting nearly as long as it usually did. Learning these episodes weren’t exactly uncommon when Jason had been estranged from the family had been the last straw before Bruce demanded the omega come back to the manor. Alfred hadn’t even given Jason a chance to refuse and had immediately moved all of Jason’s things to his old room.

Right now though, Jason just seems to be thinking. “I... still can’t smoke.”

“You really thought Alfred was going to lift that ban?” Tim tries to hide his amusement.

But Jason shakes his head and presses two finger to his lips and lifts them away, repeating the motion a few times for emphasis. “No. I, I _can’t_ smoke.”

“You tried?” Tim frowns, resuming rubbing circles into his back. “When?”

“When I was with my first teacher... and then on and off since then. I can’t do it anymore.” Jason’s nose buries itself In Tim’s shirt. There’s definitely a quiver in his voice. “I was cleaning up my room,” which means Jason was already stressed out over something and nesting since that’s what’s happening every time Jason ‘cleans’, “and I found one of my old stashes so I thought I’d try one, and...” Jason’s breathing hitches painfully and he presses harder against Tim, “I couldn’t breathe. I was back thereagain and everything burned like fire and I survived the crowbar and the explosion, but I was so fudging useless I couldn’t even breathe through some smoke.”

Tim freezes beneath Jason, the blood draining from his face. None of them really know how much Jason remembers of dying, but clearly it’s more than they thought if Jason is.... if Jason...

He tightens his arms around the omega, trying to find something to say. He needs Dick, their big brother has always been so much better at comfort. Tim tries, but he’s always been better at fixing problems for people and eliminating the cause of emotional hurt than at soothing it. Still he tries, stuttering out a soothing rumble that Dick has always made when he was hurt. It seems to help.

Jason twists the fingers of one hand into Tim’s shirt and clings tightly. “I needed air, so I... I don’t know where I was going, but then I saw you and I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be sorry... I’m, I’m glad you came to me. I want to help.” Tim stumbles over the words, searching for the perfect ones. He can’t find them, so he holds tight and presses his nose to Jason’s curls. The taste of iron is quickly overtaking Jason’s natural scent of vanilla and honey as the omega starts to panic.

“I’m sorry.” Jason whispers again, and Tim just wants to shake him. He doesn’t need to be sorry, he shouldn’t feel like he has to be. They’re all trying so hard to make sure Jason feels like he belongs, he should know he doesn’t have to be sorry.

He rubs one hand up and down Jason’s back, continuing his gentle alpha rumble. “We’re pack, Jason. You’re not supposed to be alone, don’t be sorry when you need someone. It’s our job to help you as much as it’s your job to help us.

Miraculously, that seems to help. The panic doesn’t fade, but it doesn’t get worse either. Tim rumbles comforting noises and holds Jason firmly, trying to appeal to the omega’s instincts without triggering his claustrophobia. It’s a sign of how far they’ve come that Jason doesn’t fly into a rage at Tim’s blatant abuse of biological manipulation. In return for Jason’s compliance, Tim knows better than to try scruffing him even if it would work a lot faster.

As he works frantically to calm his brother down, he’s also hard at work composing a memo that politely informs all of Gotham that he’s prepared to break half their bones if he so much as sees a vaping device within five miles of Jason. He’s struggling with the breaking bones part, he kind of wants to add something about tearing throats out.

Eventually, Jason’s scent goes back to being mildly sweet with just the edge of metal from the honey. The omega sighs and rubs his cheek across Tim’s collarbone again. “You really do need to stop working though. Big wing and I are getting ready to stage an intervention. Do you know how sad that is, baby bird? Most people need an intervention for fun things, like buying too many cars or dogs or something. The last thing most people need is to be forced to stop working.”

“And yet, here we are.” Tim chuckles and lets Jason change the topic so his brother can feel more comfortable, but he’s already clearing his schedule because he and Alfred need to search the manor for Jason’s stashes of cigarettes before his older brother can come across more of them and have another meltdown.

Jason nods solemnly. “Here we are, and I’m about five minutes away from smashing that electronic atrocity unless you promise no work for the rest of the day.”

“I promise.” Tim agrees, probably too easy, and shuts his laptop down. He’d honestly forgotten about it until Jason pointed it out. Sorting out the legal issues surrounding Jason can be done later.

Jason’s finger pokes him in the ribs. “I mean it, this is serious. You gotta swear a blood oath or something.”

“What are you five?” Tim rolls his eyes, happy to see the crooked grin spread across Jason’s face. “Only puppies demand blood oaths.”

“And pirates. Lots of pirate oaths are signed in blood.”

Tim throws his head back in fond exasperation and lets himself just laugh. He doesn’t care that he slammed his head down on the couch arm hard enough to make his back teeth ache, or even that now his congestion headache is a thousand times worse. They managed to get Jason through a triggering event without a bloodbath. “You’re a pirate now?”

“Maybe I am. Spent a lot of time overseas, Timbuktu, changes a man.” Jason’s shaking again, but this time with controlled laughter.

“You won’t even listen to pirated music on YouTube.” Tim protests indignantly. From this vantage point, Tim can see a three thousand year old vase that’s been sitting above the fireplace since before Tim arrived at the manor. He eyes it, trying to determine if it’s a likely spot for young Jason to hide his contraband.  “I don’t see an eyepatch or a parrot anywhere either.”

“Pirated music isn’t a victimless crime, Timmy. They used to have big campaigns educating people on it. Weird Al sang a song about it and everything.” True, but Tim isn’t sure that song is good supporting evidence for Jason’s claim. Judging by Jason’s expression, one he only wears when being particularly difficult, he doesn’t think it is either. “My eyepatch is lost and Damian stole my parrot for his petting zoo.”

“For the love of all you hold dear, please don’t mention a parrot to Damian.” Tim groans at the idea. At Jason’s wicked smirk, he points a finger at the omega. “I mean it, you get him wanting a parrot and I’ll burn every copy of Jane Austin that you own.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Jason eyes him critically and then yawns deliberately wide against his chest.

Tim is suspicious, but resolute. “I would.”

“Fine. The last thing we need is another bird running around with his attitude anyway.” Jason grunts, carefully tucking the blanket around them. “Nap time now, Timmy.”

“I know you know my name is Tim.” He grumbles, but obediently shifts sideways a little so they’re laying almost side by side with Jason holding him captive by half laying on top. It’s almost comfortable, despite the pounding in his head. If he was drowsy, maybe he wouldn’t mind a nap. Jason yawns again, almost mockingly, and Tim bites back a yawn of his own. He’s not tired though, he has things to do. “Even if I don’t work, I have other things that need my attention.”

“Nope. Nap time.” Jason insists, eyes shut but still smirking. “Did you miss the fact where you’re sick with a compromised immune system, Timelda?”

“I hate you.” He answers dully, snuggling closer. Despite himself, he finds his eyes drifting shut. “Quit giving off those pheromones. I know you’re doing this on purpose, I wasn’t tired five minutes ago.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Timbit.” The calming omega scent that’s making him so drowsy thickens in the air around them. A nose presses against Tim’s cheek and he can’t find it in himself to shove Jason away.  “I just naturally smell this good.”

Tim’s sure he comes up with a cutting reply, but when he wakes up three hours later curled against Jason’s side—the omega still asleep and purring contentedly—he can’t remember what it was for the life of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Boxes by The Goo Goo Dolls


End file.
